


Seeing The Gift

by siriusblue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Care of Magical Creatures, Developing Friendships, First Kiss, Friendship, Hidden Talents, M/M, Quidditch, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusblue/pseuds/siriusblue
Summary: Hogwarts AU. Mike Stamford has a secret. His parents make it pretty plain that if anyone finds out, his life could become a lot more complicated. It takes the friendship of Greg Lestrade, among others, to make Mike realise his gift is something pretty special and that the root of friendship can lead to the blossoming of something infinitely sweeter.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beloved Bryntwedge for suggesting a much snappier title. I do hope you like this.
> 
> I'm a real sucker for Stamstrade and this was far too good to resist.

SEEING THE GIFT

  
  
  


Mike Stamford wasn't surprised when objects levitated around him, things exploded or the walls of his bedroom changed colour depending on his mood. He was going to be a wizard after all, just like his parents and his big sister.

 

The thing that  _ did  _ surprise him happened one summer day when he was seven years old. He was playing with his Junior Herbology Kit in the back garden, digging into the soil with particular relish, when he heard a voice.

 

“Hey! Careful where you're putting that thing. You almost had my tail off!”

 

Mike looked around but he was alone. Thinking he was imagining things, he lifted his trowel again and almost brought it down…

 

On a  snake.

 

“Aaargh!” 

 

“It'sssssss okay.” the reptile reassured him. “I'm not poisonous.”

 

“But you can talk!” Mike squeaked.

 

“All snakes can talk, but I've never met a wizard who can understand me before.”

 

“Wow!” Mike was enthralled. “Have you got a name? My name's Michael.”

 

The snake eyed him curiously.

 

“Snakes don't really have names. That's a human thing.”

 

“So what do your friends call you?”

 

Now the snake looked really confused.

 

“I don't have...look, you can call me whatever you want. I'm a grass snake, I'm utterly harmless, so we can be friends if you want.”

 

Mike beamed. He didn't really have any friends either. His mother taught him at home as she had done for his sister, so interaction with kids his own age had been limited. That was one of the reasons he was desperate to go to Hogwarts.

 

“I'll call you Monty. Can I pick you up?”

 

“Yesssss. Be careful.”

 

Mike sat on the grass and picked up his new friend who slithered from hand to hand.

 

“Ooh, you're very warm,” hissed Monty happily.

 

Mike beamed. The snake didn't feel slimy at all. Scaly but not weird and he didn't flinch when Monty wrapped himself around Mike's tiny wrist.

 

A shadow fell over them and Mike looked up to see his mother standing there. She looked worried.

 

“Look, Mam!” said Mike excitedly. “I found a friend.”

 

“Put the snake down, Mikey.” his mother insisted.

 

“It's okay. He's not poisonous and his name's Monty.”

 

“Such an imagination you have,” said Mrs Stamford indulgently.

 

“Don't think your mum likesssss me very much,” sighed Monty.

 

“She doesn't know you yet.” Mike reassured him.

 

Maria Stamford looked in dismay at her son who was hissing and spitting while the serpent on his wrist looked to be  _ listening to him. _

 

“Come on, Mikey. Come and wash your hands. It's nearly dinner time.”

 

Unconcerned by the change in his mother's demeanor, Mike put the snake back on the ground and followed her back into the house. 

 

In the kitchen he could smell cottage pie bubbling in the oven and hurried up to the bathroom to wash up. Cottage pie was his absolute favourite and his mother was the best cook in the whole world in Mike's opinion.

 

His father returned from the Ministry shortly afterwards and Mike couldn't understand why his mother practically dragged him into the living room and shut the door or why his dad had such an odd expression on his face every time he looked at him. 

 

Joan, his sister, noticed nothing. She had just finished her final year at Hogwarts and was all set for a glittering career in the Ministry. Mike never tired of hearing her stories about the castle, the Ravenclaw common room, Hogsmeade and all the different lessons she was being taught. Mike would never say anything but it sounded a lot more exciting than maths and grammar.

 

After he went to bed that night, Mike had what he hoped was a very odd dream in which his parents had a huge argument outside his bedroom.

 

“ _ Stephen, he's a Parselmouth!” _

 

_ “Maybe not. Maybe you just…” _

 

_ “Don't you bloody dare tell me I was imagining it. He was speaking Parseltongue! Our little boy...he must get it from your side of the family.” _

 

_ “Mine? What on earth makes you think that?” _

 

_ “Your Uncle Randolph. He was a Slytherin. And he hung about with a dodgy crowd…” _

 

_ “He wasn't a Death Eater! Look Maria, it doesn't matter. You're making it sound like little Mikey has some incurable disease. He's got an extra power, that's all.” _

 

_ “But what about Hogwarts? Can you imagine the life he'll have if anyone finds out?” _

 

_ “I'll take him to the Quayside tomorrow and have a chat. Man to man. He'll understand.” _

 

The next day was a Saturday and Mike nearly choked on his porridge when his Dad turned to him and said.

 

“Fancy a run to the Quayside, mate? See the ships? It's been ages. We might even stop at Shields for fish and chips.”

 

“Really? Just you and me?”

 

“Yeah. Let your Mam and Joanie do girly stuff.”

 

“Oh yes please, Da!” Mike exclaimed, shovelling in the last of his porridge and beaming expectantly. His dad chuckled and went upstairs to change into Muggle clothing. Armed with Muggle money, the sight of which always made Mike giggle, they walked to the bus stop to catch the next bus into town.

 

Mike had one of the best days he could remember, wandering through the throng of people enjoying a sunny day beside the river, stopping to look at the boats delivering their catch to the Fish Quay, holding tight to his Dad's hand so they didn't get separated.

 

They waited patiently in the queue at the chippy,then found a bench to sit on, tucking into golden battered fillets of cod and plump chips slathered in salt and vinegar and licking their fingers when they were done.

 

Once Mike had put the wrappers in the bin, his Dad looked at him with that odd expression again.

 

“Mam tells me she found you talking to a snake in the garden yesterday. Is that right?”

 

“Yes Dad. I called him Monty,” said Mike proudly.

 

“I see. Michael, there's something you need to know.”

 

Mike started to feel worried. His parents only called him Michael when he'd been very naughty.

 

“What you are is a Parselmouth. It's a really rare gift among wizards, being able to talk to snakes. The thing is, You Know Who could speak Parseltongue too. “

 

Mike shivered, despite the heat. He didn't want to share  _ anything _ with the most evil wizard who ever lived.

 

“It's supposed to be a talent that Dark wizards have. Now, no one is saying you're going to be a Dark wizard. You probably won't even end up in Slytherin. Just, when it's time for you to go to Hogwarts, don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want people thinking any less of you because of it. Do you understand, Mikey?”

 

Mike's pleasure in the day had suddenly soured but he dredged up a smile.

 

“I promise, Dad. I won't tell a soul.”

 

“Good lad. Now, let's head home and find out what the others have been up to and how many Galleons it's going to cost me.?” 

 

Cheering up slightly, Mike followed his father back to the bus stop. 

 

Generally optimistic, Mike didn't worry about this new information. It would be years before he went to Hogwarts and he was a boy who kept his promises. With all the incredible things in the wizarding world, surely no one would be  _ that _ interested that he was a Parselmouth, would they?

 

*

 

_ Four Years Later, 1st September, Platform 9 ¾, King's Cross. _

 

Mike pushed his luggage trolley loaded with his trunk and his new owl along the side of the steaming Hogwarts Express, flanked by his parents.

 

He paused outside a likely carriage and stopped to say his goodbyes. He hugged both his parents, both looking tearful, promised to write at least once a week and that he would work hard.

 

Out the corner of his eye he spotted a dark haired boy who looked even more worried than Mike felt. Worse, the boy looked like he was on his own.

 

“Just a minute,” said Mike. He had always been a kind boy and he thought this lad could do with some help.

 

“Hi!” said Mike. “Need a hand with this?” He indicated the trunk.

 

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

With the help of Mike's parents both trunks were loaded on as the train gave a piercing whistle and began to move out of the station.

 

“Let's see if we can find a compartment,” muttered Mike and the other boy followed close behind, also dragging his trunk.

 

Near the end of the train was a compartment with only a couple of people in it. Mike stuck his head in and said.

 

“Can we sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

 

The boy and girl looked at him with guarded expressions but the boy said,

 

“Yeah of course. The more the merrier.”

 

Mike and the other boy sat down and smiled at the other two.

 

“Are you first-years as well?” Mike asked.

 

“I am,” said the boy. He had ash blond hair and a stocky build. “John Watson.”

 

“I am too,” chimed in the girl. “I'm Molly Hooper.”

 

“Mike Stamford.” Then he turned his gaze to the other occupant who so far hadn't said a word. The other boy grinned nervously.

 

“Greg Lestrade. I'm sorry, I'm usually a lot more chatty than this. Can't shut me up normally. I'm just really nervous.”

 

“Hey, don't worry.” Mike reassured him. “I think we're all a bit nervous. It's all very new, isn't it?”

 

“Yeah. But  _ magic _ ? I mean...I dunno what it was like for you guys but one day Professor Dumbledore turns up at our flat and tells me and my Mum that I've got a place at wizard school. That I'm magical. Bit of a shocker to be honest.” said Greg.

 

“Well, my sister comes here,” John replied. “She's in fifth year. So it wasn't such a shock for our family. What about you two?”

 

“I was expecting it,” Molly confessed. “My dad's a wizard, you see.”

 

Mike felt three pairs of eyes on him and felt a bit embarrassed.

 

“My whole family are wizards,” he admitted. “Have been for as long as anyone can remember. My big sister just left this summer.”

 

They all looked at each other.

 

“You must know loads of magic already, Mike.” Greg asked.

 

“Nah, not really. Mam and Dad told me everyone starts at the beginning, whether you're from a wizarding family or not, so we'll all be learning the same stuff.”

 

There was a general air of relaxation after that statement, as if Greg wasn't the only one who was worried.

 

They chatted some more about their families, their favourite things and quizzed Mike mercilessly about Hogwarts and he answered as best as he could.

 

“It'd be great if we were all in the same House,” sighed Molly.

 

“That's up to the Sorting Hat,” replied John. “Harry told me it's what decides which House you'd do best in, she's in Gryffindor.”

 

“My dad and sister were in Ravenclaw but me Mam was a Hufflepuff. We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?” Mike said.

 

As the journey progressed, Mike felt a shameful longing for the four of them to stick together. He'd never met such different but interesting people and was quite surprised at how easy they were to talk to.

 

Greg especially, once a few of his fears had been laid to rest, was extremely chatty. Passionate about football and Arsenal in particular, he was fascinated by Mike's description of Quidditch.

 

“Sounds incredible. Have you got a team you support?” Greg asked.

 

“Chudley Cannons,” admitted Mike. “Triumph of hope over experience, really.”

 

Molly laughed before announcing a lifelong affiliation to Puddlemere United while Greg and John laughed along with them.

 

When the lunch trolley arrived, Mike caught Greg looking wistfully at it without getting out of his seat so Mike bought a selection of sweets and pasties and dumped them on the seat between them.

 

“Help yourself,” he invited. “I dunno if you've ever had wizard sweets before but they're really good. Dig in, you two.”

 

“Ooh, thanks Mike,” smiled Molly, helping herself to a Chocolate Frog.

 

“Cheers, Mike.” said John with a grin, taking some Every Flavour Beans.

 

“The Frogs have cards inside,” explained Mike. “Everyone collects them.”

 

“Ooh, like Top Trumps,” said Greg excitedly.

 

“What are Top Trumps?” Mike asked, utterly baffled. Molly giggled as John choked on what turned out to be a sprout flavoured Bean which made them all laugh after John had stopped retching. 

 

As the day drew on they changed into their robes, the four of them feeling a bit self-conscious and, in Mike's case, nervous. Very soon it was going to be real.

 

They got off the train at Hogsmeade and clustered around the massive figure of Hagrid as he called for more first-years. Once the train was empty, they followed him down to where a flotilla of small boats was waiting to take them on to the castle. 

 

The journey passed in no time and, in what seemed like seconds, Greg, Mike, Molly and John were waiting in a line in front of the four House tables waiting to be Sorted.

 

Molly was the first of the four. She sat on the stool while Professor McGonagall dropped the Hat on her head. After a minute, a rip appeared and a voice announced

 

" _ Hufflepuff!" _

 

The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers and applause and Molly scuttled over and sat down, relieved to be out of the spotlight and started chatting to another couple of newly-Sorted Hufflepuff girls.

 

The Sorting went on, then it was Greg's turn. He was pale green by now but walked bravely to the stool and sat down, vanishing under the Hat.

 

One minute passed. Then two. Then " _ Hufflepuff!" _

 

With a wide grin, Greg sauntered over to the table and smiled at Molly who budged up to make room for him.

 

The Sorting continued, soon there was only half a dozen first years waiting. Then Professor McGonagall said.

 

"Stamford, Michael."

 

Hoping that his shaking legs would hold him, Mike stepped out of the line and over to the stool. As soon as he sat down, the Sorting Hat engulfed his head.

 

"Well, well. Another Stamford." said a voice in Mike's ear. "Lovely. Now what shall we do with you? Oh, my. That's an ability I haven't seen since the Riddle boy. Hmmm. Lots and lots of talent there, keen to learn and work hard…"

 

"Please, " Mike muttered, terrified he'd be overheard. "Don't put me in Slytherin. Anywhere but there."

 

"Slytherin House would make great use of your gift."

 

"I don't  _ want  _ it!" Mike said through gritted teeth. "I just want to be an ordinary student. Please."

 

"Very well. Your friends will help you with that, I believe the best place for you is…"

 

" _ Hufflepuff!" _

 

Vastly relieved, Mike got off the stool and hurried over to where Greg and Molly, along with the rest of the table, were cheering and clapping.

 

"This is brilliant!" Greg exclaimed as Mike sat beside him. "Now all we need is John."

 

Five students later, Mike, Molly and Greg got their wish and a broadly smiling John joined the rest of the Hufflepuffs.

 

A hush fell over the Great Hall as Professor Dumbledore got to his feet and spread his arms in welcome.

 

"To our new students, welcome. To our old ones, welcome back. Let the feast begin."

 

The table filled with food of all kinds and people helped themselves, chattering away. Greg looked momentarily stunned before reaching out and helping himself to a chunk of steak pie. 

 

"I love magic," he said to Mike. "This grub is incredible."

 

"Isn't it?" Mike enthused as he helped himself to more cottage pie. "My parents weren't kidding. Hogwarts is amazing."

 

Puddings followed then the first-years followed the two prefects to the Hufflepuff common room. They were shown how to get in (a specially coded knock) and found themselves in a huge room filled with flowers and plants, squashy comfortable sofas and a huge, crackling fire. Mike, Greg and John followed the prefect up a flight of stairs to their dormitory.

 

Their trunks were waiting for them and the three of them wasted no time in getting into their four-poster beds that were draped in yellow and black hangings.

 

Excited and overwhelmed as he was, Mike could feel his eyelids closing as soon as he laid his head on the pillow, very glad to be there and even more glad to be among friends.

  
  


TBC

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to Bryntwedge for the beta *hugs*

Greg Lestrade threw himself into one of the armchairs near the fire in the Hufflepuff common room and sighed. Mike looked up from his Charms homework and smiled.

 

"You okay?" Mike asked.

 

Greg scowled as he rooted around in his school bag for his own homework.

 

"I'll never find my way around this place," said Greg. "It's sodding  _ enormous.  _ It's been over two whole weeks, you'd think I'd be able to find my own bloody common room by now."

 

His scowl deepened as a ball of parchment, thrown with unerring accuracy by John Watson, bounced off his head.

 

"Stop moaning, Greg. We've all gotten lost about a hundred times a day. I'm sure we'll get used to it."

 

"Yeah, by the time I graduate, probably." Greg muttered. Mike heard and laughed which made Greg smile.

 

"Better get started on that essay for McGonagall," said Greg, smoothing out a roll of parchment and unscrewing the top from his ink bottle, dipping in his quill and scratching out the first few words.

 

"I finished mine yesterday," said Molly brightly, dropping into the chair next to Mike's. "I just need to finish my star chart."

 

"I've done mine," said John. "You can copy if you want."

 

Molly accepted the proffered chart with a gleeful smile.

 

"How come you haven't done your Transfiguration essay yet?" Greg demanded. "Then I could copy that?"

 

"McGonagall would give you detention for a month," warned Mike. "She hates cheating."

 

"Spoilsport," laughed Greg, his irrepressible good humour bubbling to the surface. "Best do it the old-fashioned way then."

 

There was silence between the four friends as they carried on with their work and, about an hour later, Mike wrote his last sentence with a flourish and put down his quill.

 

"Bollocks!" Greg exclaimed. His hair was sticking up all over the place from where he had run his fingers through it in frustration. "Why can't I just use a biro? I'll never get the hang of quills and ink. It makes my writing look terrible."

 

"What's a biro?" Mike asked and got the usual half-amused, half-exasperated smile from Greg.

 

"It's a pen, actually. It never needs to be refilled. Much simpler than all this paraphernalia," Greg's sweeping gesture with his arm knocked over his ink bottle and it was only John's quick reflexes that saved Greg's essay from a terrible fate.

 

Mike laughed. He was aware that he could take Muggle Studies as an option in his third year but if he were honest, he'd prefer to just have Greg explain everything to him. 

 

Greg had already enthralled him with how a car engine worked, how aeroplanes stayed up and the entire history of Arsenal Football Club, not to mention Muggle money and television programmes. Mike hadn't exactly led a sheltered life but his parents took the Statute of Secrecy very seriously and Mike's interactions with the Muggle world had been few and far between. 

 

"Tough luck, mate." he replied. Greg mock-scowled at him and scribbled a few more sentences before putting his quill down.

 

"Anyone fancy a game of Gobstones?" Molly asked. "I've got a set upstairs."

 

"Yeah, why not?" John replied. "A four-hander?"

 

"Sounds good," Mike added as Molly got up from her chair, moving slightly to the right to avoid a Fanged Frisbee that was heading her way. 

 

Then Greg spoke. " _ Molly, don't move!" _

 

His voice was so unlike his normal one that Molly froze and Mike and John stared at him, just as there was a resounding  _ crack  _ and a large piece of glowing-hot wood jumped out of the fireplace and landed on the hearthrug, exactly where Molly would have been standing.

 

The friends watched in horror as it set fire to the rug, a harried prefect putting out the flames with a jet of water from her wand.

 

"Greg…" Molly ventured.

 

"I thought you were getting the Gobstones?" Greg asked, the usual cheerful note back in his normal voice.

 

"Yeah. Just a minute." She vanished in the direction of the girls dormitories as Mike and John exchanged puzzled glances.

 

"What?" Greg asked, baffled.

 

"That could have been really nasty," said John, his voice thoughtful. "Molly could have been badly burned if you hadn't stopped her."

 

John and Mike expected Greg to laugh it off but they didn't expect his face to drain of colour or tears to fill his eyes.

 

"Oh  _ shit _ !" Greg exclaimed."Not again!"

 

Some of the older students were looking at them curiously so Mike and John grabbed Greg and hustled him out of the common room to the relative privacy of their dormitory.

 

"Okay," said John, closing the door behind him. "What just happened?"

 

Greg sat on his bed and ran his hands through his hair, pointedly not looking at either of his friends.

 

"Um, nothing?"

 

"Try again. You stopped what could have been a horrible accident, Greg. That's nothing to be ashamed of. How did you do it?" John persisted.

 

Greg sighed heavily. "If I told you I don't know, could we drop it?"

 

John was about to object but Mike butted in first.

 

"If you want to, that's fine. You've got a gift though, Greg. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

 

"Tell that to my mum, will you? Tell her my seizures are a  _ gift  _ and watch her laugh in your face."

 

Mike and John looked at each other, troubled. Whatever they had been expecting, it wasn't that.

 

"Hang on," said John after an uncomfortably long silence. "When I was in primary school there was a girl who had epilepsy and it was nothing like what went on downstairs."

 

Greg scowled again but there was no heat in it. He looked very much like someone dying to unburden themselves but unsure of their reception afterwards.

 

"For as long as I can remember, I've had these episodes. No one knew what was causing them, not really. The doctor sent me to a specialist who diagnosed me with absence seizures. Put me on medication, but they didn't stop. Mum says my eyes would roll in my head and I'd say stuff. Stuff I had no business knowing. During one of them I begged her not to go to work that morning, something bad was going to happen."

 

Greg paused, his expression glazed.

 

"She didn't go till I had come out of it, and that took a while. It was the seventh of July. The day of the London bombings. Mum would have been on the bus that blew up. That, combined with all the other weird shit that had started happening around me, really freaked her out though she tried her best to hide it. Honestly guys, finding out I was a wizard was the very best thing that could have happened to me. I thought I was going mental and I'm pretty sure my mum did as well. Do me a favour, though. Don't say anything about this to Molly. I'll tell her, I promise. Just not yet, eh?"

 

"No problem," said John, extending his hand for Greg to shake. "Now, Gobstones?"

 

Greg laughed and the atmosphere lightened enormously.

 

"You're getting your arse handed to you, Watson." 

 

"You wish," smiled John.

 

*

 

Greg was as good as his word and told Molly the next day. The four friends were heading to the Great Hall for lunch when Molly made an announcement.

 

"Greg will have to do Divination in third year. He's obviously got Seer blood in him. It can only help."

 

"Harry couldn't wait to drop it," said John as they took their seats at the Hufflepuff table. "She reckons Professor Trelawney is crackers."

 

"So did Joanie," added Mike, helping himself to potatoes.

 

"Greg has a talent," protested Molly. "If you had one surely you'd want to make the most of it?"

 

_ If you only knew  _ Mike thought.  _ At least Greg's is useful. Not something to be hidden in case people get the wrong idea. _

 

"Mike, why did you just pull a face?" Greg asked. "Something wrong with the stew?"

 

"No," said Mike, mentally kicking himself for not schooling his expression. "It's lovely."

 

Greg didn't look convinced but Mike was pleased when he let it drop.

 

"So, flying lessons next!" John exclaimed. The rest of the friends laughed.

 

 John had been more excited about learning to fly than anything else in Hogwarts. He and Molly had spent hours talking about flying and the different types of broomsticks available to buy. If Molly had one flaw, it was that she was only mildly interested in Quidditch but loved everything to do with broomsticks.

 

"Let's get outside!" John exclaimed. "Make sure all the decent brooms haven't been snagged."

 

The friends left the Great Hall before John burst with excitement.

 

"I dunno about flying," Greg confided to Mike. "I'm not very good with heights. You must be brilliant though. I bet you've been flying forever."

 

"I had a toy broomstick when I was little," Mike admitted. "Mam and Dad bought me a new Cleansweep for my tenth birthday. I like flying but I'm not great at it. Honestly."

 

Greg grinned in disbelief as they caught up with Molly and John.

 

"They're mostly Shooting Stars. Slow and creaky and tend to pull to the right if you don't watch out," Molly was saying, John drinking in every word. "They're not going to have decent kit in school. Now if you want a decent broom…"

 

"Ow!" Mike exclaimed as someone barged deliberately into him.

 

"What would a scruffy half-blood like you know about the best broomsticks?" This came from the bargee, a Slytherin boy called Jim Moriarty flanked, as usual, by his faithful henchman, a tall blond named Sebastian Moran.

 

"Watch your fucking mouth," snarled Greg. Mike knew Greg didn't understand what an insult it truly was, only that his friend was being harassed.

 

Moriarty looked Greg up and down, taking in his second-hand robes, mended school bag and untidy hair, an unpleasant sneer playing on his mouth.

 

"I wouldn't expect a Mudblood like you to understand. Or a girl to know one end of a broomstick from another."

 

Mike could feel his blood boiling and the casual way the little git had insulted his friends but before he could start replying with his fists, Molly spoke.

 

"For your information, you little shit, my dad is the mechanic for Puddlemere United and he's got his own workshop where he makes bespoke brooms for  _ really  _ rich people. I cut my teeth on a Firebolt handle and could fly before I could walk. And if you insult my friends like that again, you'll find out just exactly what a  _ girl  _ is capable of. Come on, you lot. We'll be late."

 

Molly marched away with her nose in the air as the three boys shared disbelieving grins and Moriarty stood with his mouth open. 

 

Mike didn't like the look on Moriarty's face one bit. They'd have to keep an eye on Molly from now on.

 

"What's a Mudblood?" Greg asked.

 

"It's a revolting way of describing Muggleborns," said Mike. "If you're lucky, you'll never hear that again. People tend not to use words like that in polite conversation. The twat. How dare he?"

 

"Sticks and stones, mate. Don't fret over it." Greg replied, clapping Mike on the shoulder.

 

*

 

"Flying is  _ brilliant _ ! Didn't know if I'd love it or not but...aaargh!"

 

It was late evening in the common room and it was Greg who was being madly enthusiastic about his brief time on a school broom. Mike smiled and lightly tapped his ecstatic friend on the  arm.

 

"See? Nothing to worry about. You were great. John as well."

 

Greg replied with a lazy grin. "Can't wait to see my first match. When does the season start?"

 

"October usually. One house against another. Joanie says the competition gets pretty fierce."

 

"Just like a London Derby," replied Greg, excitement kindling in his eyes.

 

"What?"

 

"Oh, Mike. You absolutely have to come and stay with me in the summer holidays so you can learn all about football. It's when two local teams play against each other. Like Arsenal versus Tottenham."

 

Mike's heart leapt at the casual invitation. It was brilliant to have friends like this. Greg especially.

 

Greg had something unique. Maybe he wouldn't be freaked out when Mike told him his own little secret. He watched Molly and Sarah playing chess, Greg and John giving a running commentary and decided that secrets were secrets for a reason.

 

He wasn't telling anyone.


End file.
